


Sweltering

by snowmuzu



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: And robots, F/M, Other, hot af robots older than your planet, it's not a stable income but hey, ratchet is an old mech, reader bounces around the country doing odd jobs, who deserves to be adored by a s/o, you get to see some cool rocks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-03-23 22:40:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13797834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowmuzu/pseuds/snowmuzu
Summary: Staying in one spot for too long rubs you in all the wrong places. Imagine your joy when you are forced to stay in Hell City, NV with the Autobots all because one of the Deception foot soldiers saw you riding inside Smokescreen. Now you're stuck living in suffocating heat, and the only relief comes from the cold demeanor of the Autobots' Chief Medical Officer.





	1. Heat

You can practically feel your skin boiling under the intensity of Nevada’s sun. It has to be a sin to be this hot, and you can’t help but wonder what you had done to be condemned to this hell. Maybe this was God’s way of punishing you for not flossing. Who knew the big guy was such a stickler for dental hygiene. 

The air conditioning of the pharmacy you had managed to stumble upon provided some reprieve from the heat. Your eyes flickered towards the toothpaste, the corner of your lips jerking at the idea of actually buying some floss. You almost indulged the urge, but what consciousness you had left was quick to remind you of your limited funds.. 

You browsed the shelves, eyes scanning the variety of medicines and bandages leisurely. The only food the pharmacy had were protein shakes and those irresistible gummy vitamins. Your conscious reprimanded you for staring too long at a family size container of Scooby-Doo gummies. After you grabbed some sunscreen, you would have to find the nearest grocery store to get some food. Hopefully they had cheap spicy cup noodles. Those were the best. 

After buying the cheapest sunscreen you could find, you forced yourself back into the heat. Back home, it would take a good five minutes after leaving air conditioning to feel as if you were melting. Here in grand ol’ Nevada, the moment you stepped into the sun, you were cursing whatever entity controlled the it. 

Was it really necessary for it to be this hot? Seriously?

You grumbled to yourself as you walked quickly down the street, eyes scanning the buildings in hopes of spotting a grocery store. As you walked, you smoothed the sunscreen onto you face and exposed arms. The coolness of the cream made you sigh in relief, thankful for the seconds worth of reprieve. 

What felt like thirty minutes passed, yet you still hadn’t found a grocery store. What the hell? The town wasn’t that small, but it wasn’t that big either. If you had known it would take this long to find a stupid grocery store, then you would have taken your car. Wherever you left that heap of scrap. 

You resigned yourself to asking the next person you saw. 

That person showed up minutes later, and you would have cried if your tears hadn’t been evaporated by the heat. A young boy wearing a long sleeve shirt (what the fuck) was walking down the sidewalk on the opposite side of the road, his arms full with a greasy bag of fast food and a cup holder with three drinks. He seemed to be heading for a sleek silver car that had to be worth more than your accumulated life earnings. The car almost deterred you from asking the boy for directions, but the heat forced you to risk him being a spoiled rich brat. 

You jogged across the street after a quick survey of the road. A smile strained your lips. You had to fight back the urge to flinch as sweat dripped dripped into your mouth. You were heading north after some rest because screw this heat. 

“Hey there, kid.” You grinned in a valiant (and worthless) attempt to mask your awkwardness. The boy paused, quirking an eyebrow in your direction. 

“Uh, hey?”

“Sorry to bother you, but I don’t know where the grocery store is.” 

“Oh. It’s by the pharmacy.” he said, opening the passenger door of his car. Maybe he was going to put the food there. Buckle it up so it was all nice and safe. 

Damn this heat. 

Wait, by the pharmacy?

“Uh, where is the pharmacy?” you asked, the dread already dripping into your veins. 

The boy pointed towards the direction you had came.

“There’s only one pharmacy in this town, isn’t there?” 

He nodded. 

It took every ounce of your will not to scream in frustration. Screw Nevada, screw this heat, and screw your blind ass. 

You thanked him, the words wavering with the strain to not drive your fist into your face. This heat was literally frying your brain cells, and this was the proof. The boy watched with a concerned frown as you forced your body to turn around. As you turned, the bag containing your sunscreen slung on your arm. The realization dawned on the boy as he saw the symbol of the pharmacy. 

You were a couple steps away from the boy when he called out to you. 

“Uh, I can give you a ride there. I-I mean, if you would like.” 

You glanced back at him, and the look of admiration in your eyes caused the boy to suck in a deep breath of air. 

“Please.”

Now you sat awkwardly next to the boy, Jack. The cup holder rested in your lap while the food leaned against your leg. You would have shoved the heat away if it was not for the strength of the car’s air conditioning. When Jack had started up the car and the cool air had blasted you in the face, you almost cried in relief. 

That would have been awkward. Not that sitting next to a stranger wasn’t awkward enough. 

“How are you wearing that shirt in this heat? Are you an alien?” 

Smooth, y/n, smooth. 

Jack smiled politely, his eyes shifting over to you before returning to the road. His fingers flexed along the leather of the steering wheel. 

“Nah, just used to it, I guess?” He said. “I’ve lived here my whole life.”

“I’m so sorry you had to suffer through this hell.” 

He laughed, shaking his head. 

“It’s not that bad. I have a lot of good friends here.” 

The fond tone of his voice almost made you jealous. Your lifestyle didn’t afford you the luxury of many friends. The only friend you had claim to was your mother’s cat back on the east coast. The east coast and its tendency to be cold was also your best friend. You longed for the cool, salty air to lap at your bare skin as you rushed down one of the many hills on your bicycle. 

“That’s nice.” 

He hummed, and the silence permeated the air once more. The low thrum of the car’s engine was all you heard as you casted your gaze out the window. Brown and more brown sprawled as far as the eye could see. In the distance, you could see towering pillars of rocks. 

Nevada wasn’t the picturesque scenery you saw back home in Albany. It was barren and void of any forests to explore. The heat was the worse of it, you bitterly reminded yourself as you frowned at the passing buildings and rocks. 

“I guess I can imagine why people might find a barren wasteland charming.” 

Jack snorted, rolling his eyes as the car pulled up to the grocery store that has literally right across from the pharmacy. You glared at it. The proof of your shame and idiocy. 

“A barren wasteland? Isn’t that a harsh judgement?” Jack asked, watching as you slipped out of the car. 

“It’s too kind of a judgement if you ask me.” 

You leaned back into the car. The cup holder full of drinks settled in the car seat as you gently pulled the seatbelt over it. Jack was speechless, his expression twisted into incredulous confusion at the action. The belt snapped in place, and you looked up to shoot a grin at Jack. 

“Thanks for the ride, kid.” 

“I’m not a-” 

The door slammed before Jack could defend himself. He glared at you, but you couldn’t see him through the tinted windows. Instead, you grinned at your own reflection before turning to escape the heat in the grocery store. 

Finally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need How-to-Write-Robots 101, but Ratchet needs some more love. Especially tfp Ratchet. Poor mech. Also writing believable dialogue is hard :^/
> 
> This is going to be a super self-indulgent fic. I've never written for the Transformers universe, so I'm testing the waters


	2. Heat 2.0

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You meet the bottom end of a vehicon's gun.  
> Surprisingly, you don't piss yourself.

You plopped down on the lump motel bed, a cup of ice cold borscht nestled into your hands. Your hair was wrapped into a towel piled on your head, and you relished in the feeling of the cool air tickling the hair on the back of your neck. After being in the sun for the majority of yesterday, the musty room was heaven. 

The taste of the borscht wasn’t the best, but it helped keep you cool. The grocery store had a killer sell for it. You couldn’t pass up a deal of two for five bucks. You could carry around some borscht in your fancy water bottle if you decided to explore the town you were in. Plus it was healthy. 

There was a TV in your room, though you doubted it worked. You didn’t feel like proving your doubts, so you swiped your cellphone off of the bedside table. A notification for your favorite mobile game greeted you as you pressed the power button. You ignored it, drawing your lock pattern as you took a sip of the borscht. You fought the urge to gag as the beets flooded your tastebuds. 

Why did this town even have borscht? 

The only messages you had were from your mother, and she had just sent you pictures of Stormy Cloud. You chuckled at an image of the cat gleaming up at the camera with a limp noodle dangling from her mouth. Cute. 

You turned your attention to the front page of Reddit. As you skimmed the highlights of various subreddits, you couldn’t help the mundane sense of hopelessness settling onto your person. A post about a girl landing her dream job only intensified the feeling. 

With a sigh, you chucked your phone on the bed next to you. You lifted you cup to you face, but you didn’t take a drink. Your eyes remained trained on the wall in front of you as you mulled over your plans. 

Unlike the other times you had abandoned a fairly stable job, you had no job lined up. There was no clear endpoint, and the money you had earned at your last job was quickly disappearing. You couldn’t return home. Your mother owned a small shop that barely covered her living expenses. There was no way you could burden her. 

What could you do?

Maybe you could find work here.

You grimaced at the idea. The heat was awful, and the dry air caused you to cough more frequently than you cared for. The lightness of your wallet made you consider the idea in spite of the town’s unfortunate charms. You wouldn’t make it north on fumes -- you needed to acquire more money.

Your resolve carried you to a nearby cafe. A cheap glass of ice cold water sat to your right as you hunched over the town’s job listings. You had already crossed out a few that required you to work out under the sun. There was no way you were going to subject yourself to that hell. Some listings were for a long-term nanny. You circled the ones with good pay only because they promised air conditioning. 

A huff escaped your lips as you flopped back against the booth. Your head throbbed from the heat you had endured to reach the cafe, and your shoulders ached from the strain of pouring over the paper. One job listing was at an office one street over. It was a temporary secretary position. Apparently, the other secretary was on maternity leave. It sounded easy and cool. 

You couldn’t wait to escape Nevada. Maybe then you could think about something other than this unforgivable heat. Hopefully you grew somewhat accustomed to the heat like Jack had. Not that you would ever consider wearing shirt with long sleeves. You weren’t that crazy. 

It took a few minutes to coax yourself from the booth. You tucked the paper in the back pocket of your shorts and grabbed your bottle of borscht. The owner sent you off with a cheerful smile. Again, you were dumbfounded at the nature of the town’s inhabitants. They had to be aliens. 

The lack of shade on the sidewalk reignited your hatred for the sun. A shaded alley caught your attention, and with a little hesitation, you steered yourself towards it. The alley felt ten degrees cooler than the main road, and you almost danced with joy. You settled with a weak pump of your fist. 

You nursed your drink, savouring the ice cold texture of the soup. You were almost at the end of the alley when you heard the rev of an engine behind you. Frowning, you turned your head to find a purple car creeping towards you. The sudden appearance of a car caused you to flinch in surprise. How the hell had it gotten so close without you noticing?

You regarded the car with wary eyes before shrugging. There was no reason to worry yourself over a ghost car in this heat. After all, you could have simply not heard the car. 

An identical purple car pulling in front of the alley’s exit made you pause. 

What?

You glanced back at the other car. It flashed its lights at you, engine grumbling lowly. 

“Can I help you?” 

The response came in the form of a gun barrel the size of your face being pointed at you. The giant robot had appeared so quickly that you had to do a double take. Its purple finish hinted that it had been the car creeping on you. 

Your water bottle slipped from your fingers, the borscht splashing onto you bare legs. You would have mourned the lost if a robot the size of a skyscraper hadn't just folded out of a car. What kind of clown bullshit was that? 

“Where are the Autobots hiding?” 

It took a solid thirty seconds to realize that the robot had spoken to you. You blinked, still numb with surprise. 

“I, uh . . . what?” 

Your lame reply seemed to anger the robot. The ground shook with the force of its foot stomping the ground. You stumbled backwards into the growing puddle of your drink. You shuddered as more of the liquid splashed onto your leg. 

“Where are the Autobots?” the robot growled at you. 

“I don’t know? I don’t make it a habit to hang out with giant robots.” 

“Do not lie to me, human. I saw you with the Autobot Smokescreen.” 

What the hell was this robot going on about? 

Its arm gun (?) was thrusted closer to you. The reminder that a weapon with the ability to erase your very existence was pointed directly at you broke the ice that had numbed your senses. Fear seared your veins, and your heart thumped wildly in your chest. 

You had to get away from this delusional robot. 

With a deep breath, you mustered whatever courage you had. You darted pass the robot, running back towards the direction you had came. You heard it hiss in a series of meaningless clicks and snaps. The air filled your lungs harshly as you forced your legs to go faster. Maybe you should have tried harder in gym class. You prayed that your laziness would not spell your untimely end. 

The sound of metal grinding against metal filled your ears, and you guessed that signaled the robot returning to its car form. You cursed your stupidity. You forgot the thing could turn into a car. How were you supposed to outrun a freaking car?

Something wrapped around your arm and yanked you into one of the intersecting alleyways. You stumbled over your feet as your face knocked into the thing that had pulled you. Apprehension seized you as you struggled to break free of whatever had grabbed ahold of you. Your panic blinded you, and you fought with all your strength to escape. 

“Hey, hey! Calm down, it’s me, Jack.” 

The familiar and distinctively human voice caused you to pause in your attempt to rip your arm free. The panic subsided enough for you to realize that the boy from yesterday was standing in front of you. A frown spread across your lips. 

“What are you doing here?”

“Saving you.” 

Jack pointed behind you. You followed his finger and found a blue giant fighting two purple robots. Huh. You should have guessed the other car was a robot as well. The live-action of three robot giants fighting almost sent you into another wave of panic. Jack’s grip on your arm kept you grounded. 

The scene was entrancing. The blue robot moved with grace and precision. Its well-timed kicks and punches quickly disarmed its two opponents. The robots scrapped for a few moments longer before the two purple robots decided it would be beneficial for them to retreat. 

The transformation was beautiful, but you couldn’t really admire the transition as you tried to recover from nearly dying. 

You almost screamed as the blue robot kneeled down on one knee, bringing its face close to yours. A forced swallow prevented the sound from escaping your lips. 

Its bright blue eyes were unnerving, and the dexterity of its facial expression was a surprise. It seemed to be analyzing you, deciding whether or not you were a threat. You hoped it didn’t find a reason punch you into oblivion. 

The tension of the robot stare down was making you panic again. You tried to break the ice by turning to Jack. 

“I knew you were an alien.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's kinda slow. Ratchet is in the next chapter! yeeeeaaaah!!!  
> Also i'm really gay for Arcee so it's gonna be hard not to focus on her lol
> 
> cold borscht is really good btw


	3. Nerves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You consider yourself a brave person. At least, you did until you met aliens taller than a house. Anxiety takes the place of bravery.

“You have to come with us, (y/n).”

“Uh, sorry, kid, but--”

“I’m not a kid! You can’t be more than five years older than me.”

“Alright, alright, Not-a-Kid.” You huffed, shuffling away from Jack. He was seated on . . . Arcee? One moment the robot had been there, the next a blue motorcycle was in its place. 

“I don’t need to be caught up in some top secret alien stuff, okay? I have a life to live,” you said, eyes straying back to the motorcycle underneath Jack. How did something so big become so small?

Jack rolled his eyes before replying, “Yeah, you have such a busy life that you can’t even spare an hour or so to come meet the Autobot leader.” 

“One, I don’t really know what an Autobot is, so I’m going to say no. Two, I am very busy person, sorry.”

“Oh yeah, with what?”

You frowned at Jack. Why was he so pushy? If you didn’t want to meet the Autobot leader, then you didn’t have to. 

“None of your beeswax.” 

“Wow, the twenties called, they want their slang back.” 

“Lame.” 

Your banter with Jack was interrupted by a feminine voice.

“Look, you have to come to the base because it’s protocol,” the voice said, and if you listened closely, you could hear its annoyance. “Just talk to Prime, and you can go about your very busy life.”

How could you argue with such logic? Plus, your senses that had been numbed with fear were slowly becoming thawed as the adrenaline seeped from your veins. The heat would be unbearable in mere minutes, and you now had no brostch to keep cool with. Riding on a motorcycle would be a great way to fend off the sun’s scorn.

“If you’re worried about Arcee’s driving, don’t.” Jack coaxed, patting the seat behind him. “She’s the best driver around.”

Did the robots use gender pronouns like humans? 

You eyed him, hesitant to step forward. After a few seconds you sighed, resigning yourself to going with Jack and Arcee. You walked up to Arcee, and Jack smiled at you awkwardly. You were sure he meant to reassure you. 

You slid behind Jack, your fingers curling into the fabric of his unrealistic shirt. 

“Alright. Take me to your leader, Arcee.”

The air whipping past your exposed skin was heaven on Earth. You relished in the feeling, head tilted back ever-so-slightly so that you could feel the wind teasing your hair. Your fingers gripped Jack’s shirt tightly as Arcee sped towards the Autobot base. The robot was exceeding the speed limit, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Not with the cool air soothing a sunburn that covered your arms and legs. 

Arcee wounded through a long hallway not even thirty minutes later. The base was tucked into one of the many rock formations that dotted the Nevada landscape. Its close proximity to Jasper had you questioning the intelligence of the purple robot from before. If it had really been smart, then it would have just followed whoever it claimed to have seen you with back to the base. 

Maybe these aliens weren’t the omniscient beings that movies made them out to be. The small consolation eased the nerves that had been growing since you had entered the base. Despite your childhood dreams, you weren’t eager to meet giant robots from some faraway planet. In fact, you felt like rolling off of Arcee and running back to your normal life.

Your gut told you this was a bad idea. 

The hallway opened into a large room, and Arcee skidded to a stop just inside it. For a moment, you sat frozen against Jack, eyes drifting from giant robot to giant robot. There were five in the room, each possessing the same eerie blue eyes. All but one of the robots had their eyes trained on you. 

Jack jabbed you with his elbow, and your body teetered off of Arcee. You scrambled to keep your balance as you tripped off of the motorcycle. A warm wave of embarrassment washed over your face. Hopefully these robots weren’t so keen on first impressions. 

“Arcee, is this the human that was harassed by the Decepticons?” 

The largest robot stepped towards you, his footfalls sending tremors through the ground. You clenched your fist, your heartbeat spiking. It took a couple deep breaths to calm your breathing. This robot wouldn’t hurt you, or so you hoped. Jack had said it would be safe, right? 

“Affirmative, Prime.”

Arcee’s reply came from somewhere far above you. When had she transformed? 

The robot -- Prime, apparently -- inclined his head towards you. You struggled to meet his stare. Authority figures weren’t your favorite people to deal with, and a robot leader was on the top of the list of people who you didn’t want to meet in person. It was too much for your nerves. 

“Human, do you know why the Decepticons made contact with you?” he asked. 

You bit the inside of your cheek. You considered his words while willing your heart to return to its cavity. The task was time consuming. 

Jack broke the silence by coughing into his fist as he raised his hand. How cliche could this kid get? 

“I think I can explain,” Jack said. “I gave (y/n) a ride to the grocery store while I was out with Smokescreen. I’m guessing a Decepticon saw us dropping her off.” 

Huh. The car from yesterday had been one of these alien robots? You should have seen that one coming. 

“The purple robot did say something about seeing me inside someone,” you supplied. You silently congratulated yourself for speaking up in spite of your nerves.

A grunt echoed throughout the room. The robot typing at the large computer kept his eyes trained on the screen, but he shook his head. You guessed that he was the one to make the noise. 

“If you’re going to call us something, then use mech. We’re not the mindless robots that you humans use,” he said, his words thick with his disinterest. 

You should have been offended by his ennui, yet you felt relieved. This trip wasn’t to make friends. You were going to meet Arcee’s leader so that she didn’t get in trouble. Afterwards, you would leave this town for another. You had enough funds to make it somewhere a fair distance away from Jasper. Your job search could wait until you made it to the new destination. 

Maybe it would be cooler than Jasper. 

You opted to reply, despite your desire not to be too friendly, “Sorry, I didn’t realize the term was offensive. Mechs, then.” 

He grunted once more before falling back into his previous rhythm. 

“(y/n), allow me to formally introduce myself.” the deep drawl of the largest mech commanded your attention. You strained your neck to meet his glowing eyes. “I am Optimus Prime, the leader of the Autobots. We are autonomous robotic mechanisms from the planet Cybertron, and we have come to Earth to protect it and its indigenous life forms from the Decepticon threat.”

The information was slowly processed through your head. The Autobots were the good guys while the Decepticons were the bad guys. You doubted that the situation was that black-and-white, but you didn’t care to dwell on the technicalities. By the next hour, you would be heading towards some other town tucked in between sprawling masses of dry dirt and rocks. 

Silence permeated the air of the large room. You had moved your head into a more natural position and now stared at a blank spot on the way. The big mech was probably waiting for your response -- you just couldn’t think of one. What were you supposed to say to that? ‘Thanks for protecting humankind from other giant robots’? 

_Mechs, not robots_ , you reprimanded yourself. 

Jack’s eyes were boring into the side of your face. The feeling irritated your nerves. You forced yourself to utter some intelligent response. 

“Uh, that’s cool.” 

Nailed it. 

A muffled snort came from your right. It sounded oddly human, and when you turned your head, you discovered two other teenagers standing on an elevated platform. Well, one teenager. The boy couldn’t have been older than twelve. 

The girl was leaning against the platform’s rail, her arms folded in front of her. A silly grin stretched across her face as she watched the scene unfold. 

“I do have a question, though,” you said, looking up at Optimus Prime.

His eyes flickered before nodding for you to continue. Was that a blink? The strangeness of the mechs almost made you want to stay and find out what else they could do. 

“Why do you have an entourage of kids hanging around your base?” 

You could practically feel Jack preparing to defend himself. He was so predictable. 

Arcee answered, “They may be young according to your species’ standards, but they have been a great help to us. Jack here even helped Prime recall his memories.”

You looked at Jack, his face pink and his eyes focused on the floor. Try as you might, you couldn’t see Jack being much help, but maybe you just didn’t know him well enough. You could count the number of hours you had known him on one hand after all. 

An excited beep sounded from behind Prime. A yellow mech was gesturing at the boy on the platform, and more beeps accompanied the movements. You attempted to decipher what it (there was no voice to base you assumptions) was trying to say, but you were no expert at giant alien robot body language. 

_Mech._

The boy interpreted it for you, “He’s saying we’re good friends, and that my hacking skills have been handy more than once.”

“Hacking?” you asked, the disbelief spilling into the word. The boy gave a small smile. 

“It’s a hobby of mine.” 

You wondered just how good he was at hacking that he was helpful to an advance race of aliens. The girl next to him rolled her eyes. 

“Yeah, yeah. Raf’s a genius, but I’m the fighter!” the girl exclaimed, leaning even further over the railing. Her carelessness was making you more anxious than you already were. 

You had to get out of here as soon as possible. 

“You fight . . . Decepticons?” 

“Yep! I’m Bulk’s partner in crime, or war, I guess.” the girl said, her grin turned towards a rotund green mech that stood near the platform. The mech seemed to shy away from your gaze. 

You turned your attention back towards Optimus Prime. 

“Okay, so they’re helpful,” you started, “but why are they here in the first place?”

“The same reason you are here now,” Optimus explained. “The Decepticons know that they are our allies, so we keep the humans close to us for their protection.” 

The implications of his words weren’t lost on you, and you could feel yourself grow taunt as your anxiety began to consolidate in your chest. 

“But I’m not your ally.” 

“The Decepticons appear to think otherwise. The mech who attacked you was a foot soldier. He wouldn’t act on his own free will. A commanding officer must have ordered him to intercept you.”

“Well, I don’t need your protection. I’m skipping town the moment we are done here,” you reassured. Your words came out rushed, and each syllable increased your apprehension. 

“(y/n), I cannot allow you to leave Jasper. The Decepticons can follow you to any corner of Earth. Their only blindspot is this base,” Optimus explained. He moved to kneel in front of you. You knew he was trying to make you feel more comfortable, yet you jerked back so harshly that you stumbled back into one of Arcee’s feet. 

She made a small humming noise as she nudged you back towards Optimus. Your hands trembled with unspent adrenaline. 

Optimus kept his voice leveled and calm as he tried to reason with you, “I can see that you are not comfortable around us, but leaving Jasper would put you in grave danger. It is the Autobot code to protect organisms too weak to fend off the Decepticons. I mean no offense on your person, but you do not seem equipped to combat a mechanism ten times your size.” 

If you weren’t on the cusp of a panic attack, you would have made a joke about killing them with kindness. 

“It’s not . . . I can’t stay here.” 

That was the only reply you could manage at the moment. There was a reason you were in Nevada and not in New York with your mother. Staying in one place made you restless, and you could only bear to stay in one place for too long. The feeling had first occurred in your freshman year of college. It grew to the point that you dropped out and started your never-ending road trip. You didn't care to psychoanalyze yourself to find the source of the feeling. 

“I urge you to reconsider your decision, (y/n).” 

You shook your head. 

“Let it be, Optimus. If the human doesn’t want to stay, then let her go.” 

The mech in front of the computer was finally looking at you. His eyes were just like the others, yet they seemed to burn rather than glow. Your eyes strained as you stared back at him. His mouth was twisted in a grimace. 

He continued, “We don’t need anymore humans running around here.” 

Ouch, that stung. A small flame of anger flickered to life in the pit of your anxiety, and you felt foolish for the reaction. You didn’t want them to accept or like you. You wanted to _leave_.

“That is enough, Ratchet,” Optimus reprimanded. Ratchet grumbled as he returned to his typing. 

Jack stepped closer to you. You sensed that he was going to try and talk you into staying. Holding up a hand, you backed away from Jack and Optimus. With careful steps, you managed to make it back to the mouth of the tunnel without bumping into Arcee. 

“(y/n) --”

“I’m leaving.” 

Optimus’s expression seemed to fall as he bowed his head. He rose back to his full height. With a curt tone, he instructed Arcee to take you back. 

Jack watched as you disappeared through the tunnel with Arcee. His lips were pursed into a thin line. He could understand why you didn’t want to stay. Before he had bonded with the mechs, he too wanted to escape the dangerous lifestyle. Jack now knew that staying next to the Autobots was his safest option. 

He hoped you didn’t discover that truth the hard way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda unedited. I looked over it, but I have a headache from trying to do my chem hw. Also, I'm probably going to update every Sunday b/c school 
> 
> I hope the reaction wasn't too confusing. A better explanation will come later. Ratchet will be there ;^)


	4. Ok, K.O.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Knock Out flirts his way into your peaceful day, and you realize the magnitude of your own stupidity. Ratchet reinforces your self-loathing.

The incessant tapping of your fingers on the scarred wood was irritating even to yourself, and the cacophonous jiggling of your left foot only added to that mood. You couldn’t help it. It had already been two weeks since you left Jasper and arrived in the border city of Vya. The passing days had done little to dispel the nervous energy borne from your introduction to the Autobots. 

Aliens. Aliens made out of foreign alloy that probably wasn’t even known to humans. The reality of a being that was undoubtedly your senior by thousands of years was hard to grasp. Their ability to transform into objects far smaller than their original size was even harder to comprehend. 

Each time you tried to wrap your head around the logistics of mechs, you were overcome with a sense of existentialism. It was similar to the feeling you got when you tried to imagine what came after death. 

A sigh rushed passed your lips as you closed your eyes and tilted your head towards the table. Pressing two fingers to both of your temples, you stared down at the cold coffee and half-eaten muffin. You had been in this cafe for twenty-five minutes, and your lunch break was quickly drawing to a close. 

Whoever thought it was okay to force people to eat a full meal in under an hour needed their own reality check. Having to shovel down food just to be able to make it back to work on time was just one of the numerous causes of the United States’ alarming obesity rate. 

“Oh! You’re (y/n), right? The new secretary?” 

The cheerful voice pulled you out of your stupor, and with more than a little reluctance, you rose your head to see a woman peering down at you. Her light blue eyes almost made you flinch. 

“Um, yeah,” you replied lamely.

The woman smiled before plopping into the seat across from you. You considered her, trying to remember her face. She let you humor yourself for a few moments before laughing with a wave of her hand. 

“You probably don’t remember me, we weren’t formally introduced,” she explained. “I’m one of the sales reps at the company.” 

You didn’t know how to reply, so you glanced back out the window. 

A gray sports car sat across the street. Your heart jumped, and you whipped your head away from the window. The woman smiled awkwardly as your eyes met. 

“My name is Julia.”

“It’s nice to meet you, but I gotta go.” 

“Wait, I--”

You didn’t bother to wait. Instead, you scooped up your crumbling muffin and coffee sludge. You dumped it into the trash bin before pushing yourself out the door. The bell chimed, and you hurried down the street. You didn’t spare a glance at the sports car. 

The odds of the car actually being an Autobot were relatively low, but it looked like the car Jack had given you a ride in. At least, you thought it did. Your memories weren’t clear thanks to the panic attack that had accompanied you throughout the entirety of your introduction with the mechs. 

You managed to make it to your desk before you could been proven wrong or right. Work quickly suppressed your worry, and the afternoon waned into late evening before you realized hours had passed. You had noted Julia coming in, but she hadn’t bothered you. Not that you had cared. 

The back of your eyes throbbed and the joints in your fingers creaked from overuse. You stretched your hands above your head, relishing in the feeling of your spine popping back into place. You rubbed your eyes as you bent to gather your things from the floor. Once your laptop was stuffed in its bag, you stood. 

The office was dark. Too dark. 

In the absence of any positive distraction, your thoughts meandered back to the words Optimus Prime had used to manipulate you into staying in Jasper. He had said that the bad mechs (you couldn’t remember what Optimus had called them) could find you no matter where you went. You still doubted the legitimacy of that claim. Even if they could find you, it was unlikely that they would still pursue you. After all, you were just an ignorant human . . .

Right?

The darkness seemed to draw out your deepest fears, highlighting every cause of the ever-present apprehension. You bounded for the door, and with a quick flick of your wrist, you locked the office. The lamps that lined the street provided a small reprieve from the darkness. Your motel was a few blocks away, so you hurried along with your bag clutched to your chest. 

After three paychecks, you would be out of this God-forsaken state. You would head north, perhaps even cross the border into Canada. Maybe the bad mechs didn’t like the cold. 

[-]

Another week passed, and you had found yourself falling into a hypnotic rhythm. Work and its pressure allowed you to forget about the mechs. Everyday was identical to the last. It got to the point that you had went to work on one of your days off. You had made it to the lunch break before Julia asked you why you were there. 

That had been embarrassing. 

Now you lounged against a tree near the outskirts of Vya. The dry desert was the scenic display you observed, yet you didn’t detest it as you had before. It felt nice to sit in the shade, and you no longer had a sunburn warming your skin. 

You picked at a scab on your knee as you browsed your phone. The news was as drab as ever. Your mother’s cat was still up to her usual antics. No mention of giant aliens appeared on your social media. Life was simple and back to its usual charm. 

Or so it had been before a tremor shook the earth beneath you. Dread trickled into your veins as you struggled to keep your eyes on your phone. If you didn’t look up, then it wouldn’t be there. 

Another tremor, and you knew it was right on top of you. Your phone shook in your hand, the case being mauled by your nails. Your heart clenched. 

It had only been a week. Why were they so obsessed with you? 

A scream tumbled past your lips as a large hand clasped around you. You breathed in sharply as you were hauled off the ground. Crimson eyes glinted in the late afternoon sun as a mech painted an obnoxious shade of red peered at you. 

“I will never understand the Autobots’ obsession with you tiny organics. You’re neither fast nor lustrous,” the mech said, his face twisting into a sneer. 

Your chest heaved with the effort to replenish the air that your anxiety refused to keep in your lungs. The hand not holding your phone desperately clawed at mech’s fingers. The reasonable aspect of your conscious begged you to stop lest you wanted to break a couple dozen bones. You ignored it. 

The panic burned through your nerves, and your alertness was wavering. The mech’s mouth continued to move despite no sound reaching your ears. You banged your fist against your metal cage. You were sure you were pleading with him to let you go, yet you couldn’t make out the words. 

“Please, please, please, please, _please_!” 

Knock Out grimaced at the organic squirming in his hand. Although humans had some attractive cars, they themselves were unsavoury. The one in his hand was a prime example of how pathetic humans were. They always begged, always overreacted. 

The red mech mentally assessed his to-do-list. Soundwave had pinpointed the human femme’s location and had sent him to collect her. The vehicons had failed before, and Knock Out did not plan to experience the same punishment they had received from Lord Megatron. Megatron had stressed that the human came back relatively uninjured. 

“If she’s injured, then she will be of little use to us as a hostage,” Megatron had told Knock Out. “After all, Prime hates to see his precious organic toys hurt.” 

Knock Out had been confused by Megatron’s request until he realized that the Decepticon leader wanted to hurt the human himself. The bloodlust and cruelty of Lord Megatron knew no limits. 

“Listen to me, please! I don’t know anything about the Autobots,” the human femme’s sobs pulled Knock Out of his assessment. “I just, I just . . .”

Knock Out rolled his optics as you lost your words. If only he could make you shut up. 

“Don’t worry, sweetspark, _I’m_ not going to hurt you,” Knock Out purred. 

The underlying message of his words only made you become more frantic. Your nails broke as you continued to scratch at the mech’s hand. There was no way they could have found you so soon. It wasn’t possible. 

A fleeting thought crossed your mind, and you mentally cursed at your stupidity. It wasn’t possible for humans; however, these aliens weren’t human. Hell, they weren’t even made out of organic materials. They undoubtedly had advanced technology. 

You were dumb, and it was going to cost you. 

Your stomach lurched as you were suddenly free from his hand. What little air you had managed to retain was knocked out of you as you fell towards the ground. You squeezed your eyes shut and prayed to whatever god was listening that the damage wasn’t too severe. The health insurance you had was cheap. 

Rough fuzz scratched your nose as your fall ended abruptly. Rolling over, you opened your eyes to darkness. Confusion masked your panic for mere seconds before it dawned on you that were in a trunk. 

You didn't think the situation could get worse. 

You were wrong, of course. 

Gasps pressed against your face, and your fingers scraped against the walls on either side of you. You felt lightheaded from the perceived lack of oxygen as you banged against your confinements. You had to get out. You had to get out. You had to get out. You had to get out. You had to g-

The mech veered sharply and caused your head to slam into one of the sides. A whimper came from your throat as you curled into yourself. You felt pathetic and gross and desperate. 

Maybe if you squeezed your eyes shut, you could convince yourself you were back home. Maybe you were nestled against your mother with a warm cup of tea pressed against your palms, the fire crackling next to you. Maybe your mother would whisper something you couldn’t quite hear, and maybe when you asked her to speak up, she would reply as if she was talking to her cat. Maybe she would tell you about the mundane events of her day. Maybe she wouldn’t mention anything about mechs. Maybe the itch to abandon this conjured illusion would be cured. 

The next events moved in a blur, and the sun greeted you. You blinked rapidly as relief flooded your body. Screw this heat, but thank the sun for being so bright. 

Your arms quaked as you pushed yourself into an upright position. Fresh air rushed through your nose and mouth. After a few deep breaths, you forced yourself to look up. 

The sun reflected harshly from the two mechs. The red mech who had kidnapped you was directly in front of you as he parried the assault of another silver mech. Smokescreen. 

“What the frag is Soundwave doing?” Knock Out grumbled as he swiped at the Autobot in front of him. The ‘Bot dodged and rammed his fist into Knock Out’s torso. 

The mission had been going well until Knock Out couldn't contact the Nemesis. He knew the Autobots would be watching the human femme, but he hadn’t expected them to respond so quickly. 

“What’s the matter, ‘Con? Can’t call for back-up,” Smokescreen teased, his denta glinting in the sunlight. 

Knock Out scuffed as he shoved his opponent away from him. Smokescreen barely budged, but it was enough for Knock Out to move closer to the human. 

You noticed the red mech moving towards you. Fright forced you to stand despite your shaking knees. You jutted forward into a clumsy sprint as you attempted to get away from him. Your efforts were in vain, and he easily swept you off of the ground. 

The mech tutted at you, “Now, now. Be a good human or you won’t get a treat.” 

This mech was a creep. 

You yelped as the mech jerked forward. Smokescreen had rammed into Knock Out, and his hand now wrapped around the one holding you. The two mechs jabbed at one another. All the while, your body was jostled to and fro. There was an eighty percent chance you would have brain damage by the end of this. 

“Let. Go!”

The feeling of falling was shorter this time, your head slamming into something metal. The skyline spun as Smokescreen rolled away from the red mech. You slapped a hand in front of your mouth to prevent vomit from spewing everywhere. 

Make that ninety-eight percent. 

“Ratchet, a ground bridge would be really great right now.” 

Your arms wrapped around one of Smokescreen’s fingers. Although you didn’t want to be around the giant aliens, the mech hadn’t threatened to harm you. He had saved you, and you could ignore your nerves in order to not offend someone who had saved you from sure death. 

An engine revved in front of you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look up. Your jolts ached from how taunt your body was drawn, the sinews of your knees threatening to collapse. Smokescreen pulled you close to his chest. A fleeting grin was the only warning before he folded into himself. 

The juice you had drank at lunch sloshed in your stomach. Your fingers choked the leather of Smokescreen’s passenger seat, and you fought the dizziness from your sight. A seat belt wrapped your torso, pinning you to you spot. Your nerves fluttered and your heart stilled as your focused ebbed back into place. 

The speed at which Smokescreen was moving couldn’t be legal. Not that it mattered much when a creepy mech was nicking his bumper every few seconds. You gnawed on your raw lip. The metallic tang was an unpleasant reminder of the ongoing insanity.

“Don’t worry, (y/n),” Smokescreen’s voice said, the sound filtering through the speakers. “I’ll keep ya safe.” 

The words escaped you, so you replied to him by curling up into the seat. It was awkward, the sharp edges of the belt digging into the flesh of your skin. The palms of your hands pressed into your shuttered eyelids, and the colors that danced behind your eyes helped you calm down a bit. It wasn’t much, but you could now form simplistic yet comprehensible thoughts. 

Seconds later, Smokescreen skirted to a stop. The door next to you swung open at its own volition, but you couldn’t bring yourself to worry about the action as you scrambled out of the car. 

The sound of metal scratching against metal caused another wave of panic to wash over you. Your feet carried you away from the sound, your eyes darting around for a place to hide. The earlier obligations of courtesy had been forgotten the moment you were free from the grasp of a mech. 

You screamed as a large foot obscured your scurrying. A frustrated huff drew your eyes up. 

The same mech that had ignored you before stared down at you, the blue flames of his eyes vacant of any comforting emotion. You jolted back only to press against a metal wall. A quick glance behind you showed that it was Arcee. 

You refused to look at either mech as you continued to try and abscond. 

“Will you please get ahold of yourself? This is getting pathetic,” the orange mech practically sneered the words at you. 

His insensitivity and overall unpleasant demeanor froze the adrenaline shooting through your veins. The stillness lasted mere seconds before the same flicker of anger burned in the pit of your stomach. Gritting your teeth, you glared up at the mech. 

“Excuse me?” you asked, the words dripping with malice. 

The mech smirked at the display. Cocking his head to the side, he bent over slightly. The fluorescent lights of the ex-military base casted sharp shadows over his countenance, enunciating the burning of his eyes. 

Your nails bit into your palm, your stare hardening with the growth of your anger. How dare he try to undermine what you were going through. What did he know of being treated like a rag doll by beings more than three times his size? There was no way he could know. No way he could know how useless and utterly _pathetic_ you felt during your encounter with the red mech. He had no right to remind you of your own faults. 

It was embarrassing and scary to admit that if Smokescreen hadn’t rescued you, then you would most likely be dead. 

“How, how can you say that?!” 

The force of your outburst seemed to shock the mech, yet he was quick to pull the stoic expression back over his features. 

“I-I almost died! An-and I . . . and I’m just suppo-osed to get over it? It just fucking happened!” you yelled, the words tumbling off your raw lips. “I’m sorry that I, that I can’t . . .that I can’t be an emotionless _robot_.” 

The last word came out as a snarled sob. You hiccuped as you clasped a hand over your mouth. Crying was something you hated doing, especially in front of other people. The built up stress and anxiety coupled with your near abduction had broken your resolve, and a couple tears trickled down your cheeks. A few harsh blinks forced out more tears. 

“C’mon, Ratchet, lay-off the jerk routine. Go bully some other poor me-, er, human.” 

Smokescreen had managed to put himself in between you and Ratchet. The mech grunted before moving back towards to computer he worked with. His eyes flickered briefly to you, and in the searing blue of his optics, you saw a flicker of regret. 

You didn’t care if he regretted his few harsh words. 

You hoped it ate at him because it would plague you when sleep refused to numb your senses. 

A small hand lightly rested on your shoulder, and you flinched at the sensation. Brushing the back of your hand against your damp cheek, you glanced over to find Jack looking at you with concern. 

The relief of seeing another human almost made you sob again, but you managed to swallow the urge. With a shrug of your shoulders you distanced yourself from Jack. His hand hovered in the air before his fingers curled into a loose fist. 

“(y/n),” he began softly, “you need to get some rest.”

He motioned you to follow him. 

“You can sleep on the couch.” 

Your limbs still trembled as you forced your weak legs to move. Jack had offered you a steady hand, yet you ignored it. You were tired of feeling hopeless. 

It took longer than it should have to make it to the couch. The other two humans stood awkwardly next to the piece of furniture. Both seemed unsure of what to say, and if you had cared to pay more attention, you would have caught the empathetic look in their eyes. 

As you curled up into yourself, you prayed that you would wake up in your childhood room to find that it had all just been a very long and very bad nightmare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is largely unedited bc it's almost 11, so I'll tweak it in the morning.
> 
> This is many Sundays late, but like the reader, I have realized my own stupidity. The next chapter probably won't be out until the last week of this month because I have testing for the next three (3) weeks. 
> 
> I hate my life rn.


	5. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You try to overcome your anxiety with the help of Miko's pestering and Smokescreen's regret. Ratchet takes the first step towards forgiveness, and you learn a thing or two about your new alien roommates.

Your first day at the Autobots’ base passed in a relative blur, save for the hiccups. From the moment you woke up, you tried to return to your dreams. It was the only place where you could truly ignore the situation you had managed to trap yourself in. 

Miko made it difficult to be successful. She had somehow brought an amp up to the platform the couch sat on, and the girl insisted that you listened to energetic composition after energetic composition by her guitar. The thin blanket they had given you could only block out so much of the sound. 

When Miko grew tired of trying to get you off the couch, Jack took her place. 

“(y/n), don’t let Ratchet get to you. He’s like that to everyone.” 

Yeah, you were sure the mech went around picking fun at everyone who was in the midst of a panic attack. 

“He used to act the same way towards me and the others as well, but I think we wore down his nerves,” Jack pressed on. “The other Autobots are cool, too. They won’t hurt you like the Decepticons tried to.” 

At the mention of Decepticons, you were struck with the memory of Knock Out squeezing your tiny, fragile body in his much larger hand. You curled tighter into yourself as a light trembled settled over your body. The palms of your hands clapped over your ears, and you forced yourself to think about your mother’s cat. 

The next disturbance was the most alarming. 

“Heya, (y/n)!” a voice you couldn’t pinpoint greeted. Peeking out from your cocoon, you choked on your heart. The tall face of Smokescreen was mere feet away from you as he beamed down at you. 

You sputtered, your eyes glued to his eyes with fear. A small voice fought through your frantic thoughts to reason with you that the mech had saved you and wouldn’t do you any harm, but it was too soft for you to fully comprehend. Smokescreen’s grin became strained as you gaped at him like a lifeless fish. 

“I just came to see if you wanted to go for a ride so you can escape the base for awhile,” he offered, his face moving closer to the couch as he tried to lessen the height difference even more. “Jack can come along if that’ll make you feel more comfortable.” 

Your response came in the form of a thick squeak as you buried your head back underneath the reprieve of your blanket. Internally, you begged your body to let you sleep. 

Smokescreen sat in surprise for a few moments. Arcee passed the confused mech and placed a hand on his shoulder. The recruit glanced back at the femme. His doors twitched downward at the sight of her shaking helm. 

“Give it time, Smokescreen.” 

The mech gave it time, but his patience was quickly worn thin by his guilt. Smokescreen could only keep himself distracted with the Autobots’ other human allies for so long. After all, they had school in the morning. 

Smokescreen watched as Arcee, Bumblebee, and Bulkhead left the base to take their respective charges home for the night. When the bumper of Bulkhead’s alt form disappeared into the groundbridge, Smokescreen shifted his attention to the bundle resting on the couch. 

(y/n) had barely moved since he had tried to cheer her up. The food Jack had brought had only tiny bites missing, and the TV replayed the title screen of the movie Raf had set up for her. 

As Smokescreen took in the reclusive state of the newest member of the Autobots’ entourage, he couldn’t help the guilt flooding his spark chamber. If he hadn’t taken Jack to get food for KO Burger, then you wouldn’t have been seen with him and all your problems would be gone. 

"Smokescreen," the deep drawl of the Autobot leader demanded the young mech's attention. His optics flickered to where Optimus Prime stood. "Do not blame yourself for these turn of events. There was no way of knowing that a generous action would lead to such distress for the human." 

Smokescreen’s voice box crackled with the effort to push air past his denta. 

"I know that, Prime, but I can't help it! I can't help feeling sympathetic towards her -- she didn't ask for this." 

"Life rarely works the way we ask it to, Smokescreen," Optimus stated. "The war has proven this philosophy time and time again." 

For a nano-klik, the fatigue of millions of years of war smothered the Prime's optics. The war had taken many Cybertronians in its endless carnage, and no matter the amount of prayers mumbled to the greater forces of the universe, the casualties jumped to new heights. 

"If you cannot get over your guilt, then protect (y/n)." 

Smokescreen's optics fizzed, his processor whirling to comprehend the task his leader had placed before him. A steadily growing warmth flooded the mech's spark as the excitement ran through his circuits. 

He had wanted a human charge like his teammates -- this was his chance to show the others that he could be just as helpful to the Autobot cause! 

"Thank you, Prime! I’ll do my best," Smokescreen exclaimed, servos clenched into tight fists in front of his chassis. 

Optimus's dermas quirked into a light smile. The exuberance of the young 'Bot was refreshing. 

[-] 

The next day was the same as the last. Miko prodded at your limp form for any sign of life while Jack brought snacks for you to nibble on. Guilt pressed against the lining of your stomach as you realized how much of his kindness you left to waste on the table in front of you. 

The guilty feeling only increased as Smokescreen presented you with your phone fully charged and the fancy water bottle you had lost in your encounter with the purple mechs. You fought through the anxiety coursing through your veins to thank the him. 

Your interaction with Smokescreen gave you the confidence to sit up on the couch for a few hours to watch a movie with the others. It was hard to keep your aching limbs from straining under the effort to hold your body upright, but you powered through the entirety of _Anastasia_. The only reason the ache was so bad was because you were too lazy (and too much of a coward) to move from your spot. 

The second day of your stay ended with you finally moving from the couch. Your bladder could only last so long, and the look on Miko’s face when you finally spoke to her to beg her to show you where the bathroom was almost made up for it. 

The most progress of your recovery from Knock Out came on the third day. 

[-]

You tucked your knees under your chin. Your fingers twisted into the thin fabric of the blanket, and your eyes scanned the food in front of you. Miko stood in triumph as you snagged a french fry from its package.

“Finally! I thought you were going to starve yourself. Y’know, like those activist who go on hunger strikes,” Miko said. The teenager flopped down onto the cushion next to you, and you winced as the movement jostled your still aching limbs. 

Instead of replying, you continued to slowly nibble on the fries. It had been awhile since you indulged greasy foods. Your usual diet consisted of whatever the local grocery store had on sale and soup. Soup was always cheap. 

Miko nabbed a fry from your hand and ignored your weak glare as she went on, “I mean, Smokescreen brought you back here two days ago, yet you refused everything we brought you. I swore you were dead on the first day -- you didn’t even move out from underneath you blanket!” 

You rolled your shoulders as best as you could without it being painful. Miko chattered on while you finished your food. From time to time, Miko would stop in the middle of one of her stories to tease you about your pace. The gesture was oddly comforting. 

The familiar rumble of Arcee and Bumblebee’s engines signaled the arrival of Jack and Raf. Miko leaned over the couch to yell a greeting, leaving you to finish your hamburger. 

“Good to see you awake, (y/n)!”

You couldn’t help but smile as Raf greeted you with a wide grin. It still hurt to speak, so you opted to give a small wave. Who knew begging for your life would wear down your throat so much. 

Bumblebee beeped at you from behind, causing your heart jumped to your throat. Wrapping your arms around your knees, you twisted your body just enough to give the excited mech a nervous smile. If you didn’t look directly at him, then it was easy to keep your nerves under control. 

Jack sat on the other side of Miko. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked. 

You shifted your knees closer to your body. As of right now, you were numb save for the bouts of anxiety inspired by the presence of one of the mechs. You were getting better at convincing yourself that you were safe with the Autobots, but two days wasn’t nearly enough time to remedy your fear. Especially when the words of a specific mech still bounced around your head. 

Ratchet hadn’t made any attempts to apologize for his attack on your character. Not that you cared. 

There was no reason you should want his approval anyways. 

You weren’t here to make friends; you were here to hide from the Autobots’ cunning counterparts. 

“I’m okay,” you managed to choke out. Concern flashed in Jack’s eyes as he moved to hand you the drink next to your abandoned food wrappers. You took the sweating cup with a small nod of gratitude. Drinking sugary soda probably hurt your healing throat more than it helped, but you couldn’t deny how good it felt to have something cold slide down your raw throat. 

You watched as Raf fiddled with the game system near the TV. The preteen fumbled with the wires for a few minutes before plopping in one of the games. He hurried back over to the couch, squeezing himself between Miko and Jack. You shuffled closer to your arm of the couch so that they wouldn’t be too squished. 

“Dibs on playing first!” Miko cried as she snatched up one of the controllers. 

The next hour passed with you staring blankly at the TV. The trio entertained themselves with a racing game, and at some point, Bumblebee joined in on the fun. You marveled at his ability to use such a small device. 

You were jostled out of your stupor by Miko tossing her controller at you. It smacked into your thighs before falling onto the cushion next to you. You squinted at her. 

“It’s your turn, dude!” Miko insisted. “Did you think we would just let you sit there like a statue? You can play ‘Bee since you’re both noobs at this game.” 

An offended beep whined somewhere to your left. 

You carefully uncurled your knees before pulling the controller into your lap. It felt odd to hold one because you hadn’t played a video game since high school. You thumbed the joystick as a distinct wave of nostalgia washed over you. The feeling settled uneasily in the pit of your stomach. 

Despite Miko’s claim that both you and Bumblebee were noobs, the mech was obviously the better gamer. A frustrated huff forced its way past your clenched teeth as you rammed into the wall for the hundredth time. 

“I thought you knew how to drive, (y/n).” 

“He’s a freaking car!” you croaked out, smashing the button that allowed you to accelerate. 

A short burst of beeping came from Bumblebee, the sound vaguely similar to giggling. 

The Autobots were full of surprises. Over the last couple of days, you had noted that their mannerisms were similar to humans. They did things you had previously thought impossible for a robot to do. You were starting to understand why Ratchet had taken offense to his kind being called robots. 

After your inevitable loss to a literal car, the teenagers branched off to their separate responsibilities. Raf settled in front of his laptop as Miko and Jack both moved to the lower level. You watched them go, your chest growing heavy with each step the pair took towards the ground. 

Alone, you were left to fretting. 

How could they be okay walking around giants? Weren’t they scared of being of stepped on? Wasn’t it better to stay up here, where most of the bots were eye-level and there was no risk of becoming a gooey pile of squashed organs? 

Or were you being a coward again? 

You slumped in your spot. The calm that had came with playing the game was quickly crowded out by your insecurities. The teenagers were able to hold their wits around the Autobots, but you, you were just a coward. Always running from anything that even hinted at ruining your routine, running until you stumbled across a conspiracy theory in the hottest city in the goddamn country. 

Now you were stuck. If there was one thing you hated more than staying in one place for more than six months, it was dying. 

Twisting your body towards the couch, you scooted your legs back onto the cushion. With the blanket tugged over your head, you were able to ignore your surroundings. Miko, Jack, and Raf had been a nice distraction for a while, but the relief was never lasting. 

Only in sleep could you truly convince yourself you were still in Vya. 

[-]

The next time you woke up, there were no sounds. You sighed, cringing when the smell of your own breath wafted back towards you. You needed to brush your teeth. A shower wouldn’t hurt either. 

You shifted and fought to get the thin blanket off of your head. When you finally broke free of your prison, you realized that you weren’t alone. From your peripheral vision, you noticed a dim green glow to the right. 

The couch was too far off and too low for you to clearly see the source, so you wrapped the blanket around your shoulders and carefully stood. The nerves in your calves moaned in protest. Being tossed around like a ragdoll plus a panic attack resulted in aches that lasted for days, apparently. 

You crept forward with unsteady, small steps. Barely walking the last two days had left your legs even worse for wear. Maybe after things settled down, the Autobots would let you go for walks. Preferably, within the air conditioned base. 

_Like a pet_. 

The sight of a familiar and unwanted mech standing in front of the computer caused the pit of your stomach to twist into a hard knot. Your fingers tangled with one another as you moved to retreat back to the safety of the couch, but Ratchet stopped you before you could turn around. 

“Trouble sleeping, (y/n)?” 

Your teeth worried the inside of your lip. The flesh rolled between your teeth as you turned your attention towards the one Autobot you really did not want to be around. Your eyes rested on his chin. 

Ratchet waited for you to reply, and when you remained silent, he continued. 

“I suppose what you went through would be traumatic for a human,” you flinched as his loud footsteps caused the ground underneath your feet to vibrate. “but you have nothing to fear here. The decepticons have no way of getting in. If they somehow managed to infiltrate our base, then the others would protect you.” 

His words would have been reassuring if you hadn’t caught the subtle insult against you. Well, it was really aimed at all humans, but your hostility towards the mech made it hard for you to be reasonable. 

Ratchet huffed in response to your lack thereof. 

“I need to scan you.” 

You took a step back, tugging the blanket tighter around your person. Your eyes flickered briefly to his before you remembered to avoid them. The sight of his glowing eyes was short, but it was enough to inspire the same anxiety.

You cleared your throat as you stumbled over your words, “H-Hey! I’ve watched enough movies about aliens to know what _that_ means.” 

Ratchet must have given you an incredulous look as his mouth curved into an upside down smirk. You went on, empowered by your drowsiness. 

“And it isn’t happening!” 

“I can assure you that the scan is merely a way for me to check your vitals.” 

“Yeah, so you can, uh, incorporate my DNA into your own and make super soldiers!” 

Ratchet scoffed at the implication. 

“I am not even going to humor that ridiculous accusation.” Ratchet said with a grimace. “Primus, what would I even gain from doing something like that?” 

You shrugged. 

“(y/n), I just want to make sure there is no internal damage from your encounter with Knock Out. He isn’t exactly the kindest mech around.” 

You shifted your weight as you considered his words. He could have just done the scan without your consent, but he didn’t -- he had asked for permission. That had to count for something, especially since it came from a jerk like him. 

“Fine, but make it quick,” you said, bracing yourself for . . . whatever. 

Ratchet grumbled something you couldn’t hear. Sweat trickled down the back of your neck as he lifted one of his wrist so that is was level with the top of your head. A translucent beam of blue light appeared from his wrist, and it slowly moved down your form. A tingling sensation tickled the areas the light touched. It was an odd feeling, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. 

A harsh shiver rocked your body after Ratchet finished his scan. The movement was enough to dissipate the tingling. 

An awkward silence settled between the two of you as Ratchet considered his findings. 

“You look healthy, though you appear to be a bit malnourished and have an accelerated pulse,” Ratchet paused. “It would have been better if you had treated the wounds on your servos, but you’ll survive.” 

“What’s a servos?” you asked. 

“A servo is what you humans call a hand,” Ratchet answered. 

Your innate curiosity peeked through the anxiety, and you couldn’t help but wonder if the Autobots had different names for other body parts. It hadn’t occurred to you that they wouldn’t refer to a hand as a hand or a head as a head. The prospect was exciting, and it inspired a drive to satiate your need to understand a mystery. 

The feeling reminded you of your brief time at university. 

“. . .What do you call this?” you asked, pointing to your head. 

Ratchet hesitated. You waited for him to reprimand you for being stupid, but the expectation was never met. 

“On Cybertron, we call that a helm.” 

You pointed to your lips. “And this?” 

“Dermas, and your human teeth are the equivalent to our denta. The mouth is referred to as one’s intake.” 

You pointed to your nose. 

“Olfactory sensors.” 

“That’s a mouthful,” you laughed with growing confidance before pointing at your eyes. 

“Optics.” 

You pointed to your ears. 

“Audials.” 

The next half hour passed with you pointing to various body parts while Ratchet supplied the answer. Your anxiety eased up as you lost yourself in the pursuit of knowledge, and Ratchet also seemed to become more comfortable as he started divulging how different dialects called some body parts by other names. 

The mention of dialects had inspired another bout of curiosity; however, your fatigue was starting to catch up to you. 

Ratchet paused in one of his explanations at the sight of you yawning. 

“As much as I would love to continue teaching you about Cybertronian anatomy, my responsibility as the Autobots’ medic forces me to recommend that you go back to bed,” Ratchet urged, his tone surprisingly gentle. 

You hesitated. Your stubbornness wanted you to stay and ask Ratchet all the questions swarming in your head; your fatigue wanted you to listen to him. 

Blinking your heavy eyelids, you let out another yawn. 

“I guess I should . . .” 

You turned to head back to your temporary home when Ratchet stopped you again. 

“(y/n).” 

You stopped but didn’t turn around. Ratchet took your pause as a signal to go on. 

“I have to apologize to you,” Ratchet started. He was slow to string together his next words. “I’m . . . sorry for calling you pathetic.” you flinched at the word. “It was uncalled for and, as you humans say, a jerk move. Like you said, I shouldn't have expected you to be apathetic towards your experience with Knock Out.

“This war has gone on for millions of years, and it is frightening to admit that I have grown numb to the Decepticons’ harassment. Not that my own apathy is any excuse for what I said to you. The others have gone through just as much sparkache as I have, yet they still treated you with the empathy I should have. 

“I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I hope that we can become . . . friends sometime in the future. Our conversation was nice -- I wouldn’t mind having another.” 

Confusion muddled your judgement. On one hand, you wanted nothing to do with the mech that had picked at your insecurity. On the other hand, his apology had been earnest. You, too, had enjoyed the conversation, and you wouldn’t mind another. 

Maybe accepting his apology would help relieve some of the tension fueling your nervousness?

Glancing over your shoulder, you let your eyes meet his optics. In the dimly lit base, they seemed to glow like waning ambers, but the intensity from before was gone. In its place rested an emotion you couldn’t quite pinpoint. 

“Okay, I accept your apology,” you relented, “but it will take a while for me to forgive you. What you said was really hurtful.” 

Ratchet nodded, his face neutral. 

“Also, I’m sorry for implying that you were an emotionless robot. That was childish.” 

Ratchet grunted, crossing his arms. “I practically asked for it.” 

A small smile tugged at your chapped lips. 

Without another word, you retreated back to your bed. Ratchet watched you go, his spark lighter than before. He knew he wasn’t the kindest mech. Being around Jack, Miko, and Raf had made him realized his grumpiness could make him mean. It was a work in progress, but he was trying to improve his attitude. 

The first step to improvement was admitting that you have a problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was like pulling teeth, but no one said exposition was easy (I did enjoy writing the last part though). I originally had Ratchet being colder towards the reader. Then I remembered how far along in the series this story takes place, and I realized how unrealistic it was. 
> 
> Ratchet's a grump. Doesn't mean he's entirely sparkless towards his human allies (thanks to the Raf the Cinnabun)
> 
> Now that the exposition is officially done, we can move onto the meat of the story. I'm so excited!! :^D


	6. Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You go for a ride with your new bff Smokescreen, and you learn more about the war.

“S-smokescreen,” you started, fingers twisted into an awkward knot.

The requested mech paused, snapping his helm in the direction of your small voice. His optics flickered rapidly for a few seconds before a bright grin that showed off his denta stretched across his face. You couldn’t help but flinch as the mech seemed to zoom up to the platform. 

Smokescreen crouched so that his beaming expression was at your eye-level, “Hey, (y/n)! Ya need something?”

A heavy feeling nestled into your chest, but it wasn’t nearly as severe as it had been when you first arrived at the Autobots’ base. You forced your fingers apart, dragging one of your free hands through your damp hair. The cleanliness of it soothed the nervous energy that was steadily building in your nerves. 

“I was, uh, wondering if-if you could take me for a, uh, ride,” you asked, forcing the words passed your thick tongue. 

You were thankful that the artificial lights of the base were too weak to reflect off of the dazzling grin that seemed to almost split Smokescreen’s face in two. You had enough anxiety without being blind. 

“Of course! I’ve been wanting to hangout with you since you first arrived!” Smokescreen shot to his full height.One of his servos pumped the air a few times as he reveled in the excitement, and you couldn’t help but offer a genuine smile of your own. Smokescreen’s good mood was contagious. 

The mech suddenly stopped in his celebration. He stooped back down to your eye-level with a new contemplative look adorning his visage. His optics flickered towards where Jack was talking with Arcee, his dermas bunched to the right side of his face. You marveled once more at the dexterity of the mechs’ expressions as Smokescreen’s optic ridges furrowed, further enunciating his current emotion. 

The human-like nature of the Cybertronians made it easier to alleviate your fear of their height and weaponized body parts. 

“Would you feel more comfortable if Jack came with us?” 

It was your turn to blink owlishly at the mech. An unfamiliar lightness nudged the remaining weight from your chest as you processed Smokescreen’s concern. The back of your eyes burned, and you had to swallow the lump forming in your throat to prevent the tears from escaping. 

Since arriving at the Autobot’s base, you had experienced more kindness than you had since you started your endless journey across the country. 

“No . . . I-I think I’ll be fine,” you said, eyes cutting to stare at the T.V. “I know you won’t hurt me. You saved me.” 

Smokescreen could hardly contain the happy squeak that threatened to emit from his voice box. 

“Meet you on the ground!” 

You nodded, thankful he hadn’t suggested that you stood in his hand as he transformed. Your stomach still grumbled at the memory of free-falling into the trunk of Knock Out’s alt-mode.

Once you had slipped on your shoes and shoved your phone into your pocket, you made your way down the stairs. At the sound of your footsteps, Jack paused in his conversation with Arcee. 

“What’re you doing, (y/n)?” He asked, his shock apparent in his tone. 

You shrugged, “I’m going to get some fresh air with Smokescreen.” 

“You are?” 

“Uh, yeah.” 

Jack was silent for awhile. He didn’t speak again until you were on the ground floor. 

“Want me to come with?” 

The prickling sensation alighted once more. 

“Nah, I’m fine,” you hesitated before continuing, “thanks for asking, though.”

Smokescreen turned to Ratchet, who was repairing a piece of equipment that had been ruined by the gentle giant Bulkhead. 

“Hey, doc!” Ratchet grumbled at the nickname. “I’m taking (y/n) out with me on my patrol. Don’t worry, I’ll ‘com in for back up if I run into a ‘Con.” 

The CMO paused in his work to cast his gaze down towards you. His optics narrowed as he considered you, and you feared he would force you to stay. You shot the mech a small smile in hopes that it would win over his favor. 

A huff of air pushed its way out of Ratchet’s intake, his shoulders slumping slightly as he found no reason that you couldn’t accompany Smokescreen. 

“Fine, but you better not try and go back on your word, Smokescreen. She’s been through enough trouble as it is, and (y/n),” Ratchet’s sudden mention of your name caused you to straighten your back, “have Smokescreen take you somewhere to get real food. The junk Miko and Jack have brought you do more harm than good.” 

A bubbling feeling swirled around the pit of your stomach. 

“Okay.”

Without further prompting, Smokescreen collapsed into his car form. A burst of nerves was the last hint of your anxiety as you slid into his passenger seat. Smokescreen waited until you clicked the seatbelt into its buckle before revving his engine. 

“Hold on, buddy, we’re gonna be going fast.” 

This wasn’t a mistake, right?

Smokescreen’s tire skidded against the cement as he accelerated forward. The force pressed your body against the seat, fingernails digging into the leather. A nervous laugh mixed with a gasp tumbled passed your lips. 

A grunt rumbled in Ratchet’s chassis as he watched his newest teammate disappear around the curve of the tunnel. His initial instinct had been to keep you at the base, but the desperate look in your eyes as you smiled up at him pressed him to reconsider. Perhaps some time outside would help you relax. 

Ratchet cursed his softening resolve. He could only hope that his charitable decisions didn’t spell ruin for his teammates and human allies later on. 

[-]

It was little passed noon, and the Nevada sun was as harsh as you remembered it. You were glad that the speed at which Smokescreen shot across the desert landscape prevented its scorching heat from soiling your good mood. 

You sat hunched against the door, your head resting on your crossed arms as the wind whipped through your hair. The loose strands tickled your cheeks while you angled your hand so that the kinder heat of the sun warmed the exposed skin of your arms and face. The feeling was therapeutic and reminded you of your mother and her cat. 

You missed her. 

“Enjoying yourself?” 

You jumped at the sudden sound of Smokescreen’s voice cracking through the speaker near your ear. A content hum sounded from your throat. This was the most calm you had been since Vya. 

Comfortable silence settled between the two of you as you settled back into your sunbathing. The low thrumming of Smokescreen’s engine as he pushed himself to higher speeds and the shifting of gears as he cruised around rock formations was soothing. You could feel your heart beating in your chest as you inched closer to sleep. 

Your descent was interrupted by Smokescreen speaking again. 

“So . . . tell me about yourself.”

You opened your eyes and moved your head so that you could stare at the steering wheel. It seemed like the best place to look. 

“There’s not much to say,” you mumbled, the fatigue thick in your tone. 

Smokescreen laughed, “I don’t mind. I just want to know about my new friend.” 

Happiness warmed your heart at the word ‘friend’. It had been too long since someone had referred to you as such. 

“Well . . .I grew up in Albany, New York after my mom decided to open a shop to sell her pottery and jewelry there. It wasn’t exactly a lucrative business, but she made enough to make sure that I was happy . . .” you trailed off, reflecting on your childhood. 

Smokescreen waited for you to continue. 

“And I was happy. With my mother and her cute cat, I was happy. Even when I was overwhelmed with homework and exams, my mother knew how to encourage me,” a hazy heat stung at the back of your eyes as you went on. “I went to college for about a year, but I dropped out to start traveling the U.S. My mother supported my decision, though sometimes I wish she hadn’t.” 

“Why did you drop out of college?” Smokescreen asked, his voice kind and gentle in a way that let you know he wasn’t pressuring you to answer. 

“I wasn’t happy.” 

Silence. 

Then, “Are you happy now?” 

You couldn’t bring yourself to answer his question. 

“What about you? What’s your story?” you asked, steering the conversation away from you. 

Smokescreen didn’t comment at the obvious change in subject. 

“Well, back on Cybertron, I started training under the Elite Guard. I wanted to be apart of the war effort, to help the Autobots achieve victory over the evil Decepticons, but I was put on guard duty!” Smokescreen grumbled. “I had to watch over Alpha Trion at the Iacon Hall of Records. It was a real snooze-fest. I thought my time had come to prove myself when the Decepticons attacked my station, but that sneaky old mech forced me into stasis before I could get even one punch in.” 

“How did you get to Earth?” you asked, tugging some loose strands of hair behind your ear. The wind had picked up in response to Smokescreen increasing his speed. His irritation was evident in the more frequent revving of his engine. 

“When I woke up from stasis, I was on a Decepticon POW ship. I was able to get off that nightmare by stowing away on an escape pod. I was lucky to crash land on Earth. It’s always been a dream of mine to work directly under Optimus Prime himself!” 

“Is Optimus that important of a guy?” 

“Duh, he’s a prime!” Smokescreen shouted through the speaker. “I hope I’m as great as him one day.” 

You moved your head so that you could watch the pavement rushing under Smokescreen. As you focused on the road, you reflected on what Smokescreen had told you. Curiosity consumed your thoughts. 

“Can you tell me about the war?”

“Of course!”

[-]

Your dinner for the day was chicken fettuccine made from whole grain pasta noodles. The meal cost more than what you usually spent on food, but you had made enough pasta to hold you over for the next few days. It was a fair trade. 

Ratchet had approved of the meal when you informed him that you had stopped at the grocery store to pick up something more nutritious. The passive mech had directed you to a small flat with a kitchenette near the bathroom that you had used to take a shower earlier.

“You can use this room while you are under our care,” Ratchet had said before turning to return to his work. 

It hadn’t been the warm reception Smokescreen had given you when you presented him with a dancing sunflower to keep on his dashboard, but you hadn’t been offended. You were starting to understand the CMO after Smokescreen had recounted the tragic nature of the Cybertronian civil war. 

Empathy worried your heart as you watched Ratchet from where you sat eating your pasta. You were too caught up in your own thoughts to reprimand Miko for stealing a piece of chicken from your plate. 

Now that you knew more about the conflict the Autobots were fighting, a desire to help urged you to act. It was a silly thought. How could you help? You were just a human with a tendency to hide from the supernatural and any threat to your person. In short, you were a coward. 

“No fair, ‘Bee!” Raf’s whine drew your attention. His face was scrunched as he fought to defeat his friend in the racing game. 

Bumblebee beeped in response. 

“Okay, but you’ve been driving for far longer than I have!” 

You watched as the two continued to banter, and you couldn’t help but recall the first time you had met Raf and the other humans. 

If they could find ways to help the Autobots, then you could, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smokescreen? Too pure for this world. 
> 
> The sunbathing scene was inspired by my dogs who refuse to come inside bc they want to soak up some sun.


	7. Acclimation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your new mission is put on hold due to the horrific realization that you are pretty much broke. That secretary gig in Vya really was a mistake.

“I’m never eating pasta again,” you grumbled as you shoved the last spoonful into your mouth. Miko cocked her head in your direction, her eyes staying trained on the screen. Her fingers furiously worked the controller’s buttons as she struggled to keep up with Raf’s car. 

Miko snorted, “Yeah, we’ll see tomorrow.” 

You wanted to argue back that you were serious time, but you still had enough pasta for another meal. There was no way you were going to let it go to waste, especially when your bank account was alarmingly low on cash. 

You needed a job. Would they let you get a job?

Miko cried out as Raf easily passed her again. As the teenager became absorbed in her game, you mulled over your newest dilemma. The others were allowed to go to school, so you should be able to get a job, right? Smokescreen was practically your guardian -- he could make sure no Decepticons bothered you. 

Would he even want to? Would he find it bothersome?

Your stomach churned, and you knew it wasn’t from the copious amounts of pasta you had forced yourself to eat over the last few days. Anxiety was cruel in the way it found a new fixation the moment you had come to terms with your situation. 

“Hey, sunshine.” 

You jumped at the sudden sound of Smokescreen’s voice next to your ear. Turning your head, you found the Autobot scout crouching next to platform with his servos resting on the railing. You could tell he was holding back his weight because the railing didn’t crumble underneath his touch. 

“Don’t call me that, Smokescreen.” 

His optics seemed to brighten at the sound of your voice saying his name. The sight made you feel weird and happy. It had been so long since someone other than you mother had been happy to see and hear you. 

Who knew your first real friend in forever would be a giant mechanical alien?

“C’mon, it’s perfect! You love the sun!” 

Again, you found yourself unable to argue back. You had joined him on his patrol the last few times, and each time, you found yourself relaxing in the sun. Even if the heat was awful, you couldn’t deny the comfort of the sunrays when Smokescreen sped down an empty strip of road. 

“So,” Smokescreen started, the scrapping of his armor assaulting your ears as he shifted his weight, “what’s up?”

You stared at him. The question was unexpected. Usually, he just asked if you wanted to join him on patrol.

You shrugged, “Nothing really . . .just watching Miko get obliterated by Raf.” 

An offended groan sounded as soon as the words escaped your mouth. 

Smokescreen laughed. It was an odd sound. While it sounded so human, you could hear the static underlying it. 

The conversation lapsed into silence as you both watched Raf claim his third victory of the hour. Raf grinned as Miko wasted no time smashing the button that restarted the match, and Jack let out a tired sigh, his hand rubbing his cheek. You leaned towards him.

“How much longer do you think they’re going to go at it?” you whispered with a small smile. Jack glanced over at you, and the look in his eyes was enough of an answer. 

“At least three hours. Unless Miko wins, that is,” he replied, his tone betraying his lack of faith in Miko. 

It was nice to feel like you belonged. There was no awkward hesitation as you exchanged light-hearted commentary at the expense of Miko with Jack, and Smokescreen weaseled his way into the conversation every now and then. 

The mindless chatter also kept your mind off your dwindling funds. 

Once you got a job, you would ponder how you could be of use to the Autobots like Jack and the others. You wouldn’t be much help if you were too malnourished, and you were certain Ratchet would deny any requests if his scans showed that you were too weak. 

The moment was broken by Bumblebee returning to the base. A string of beeps followed his transformation. Whatever the yellow Autobot had said, it made Smokescreen groan. 

“It was almost my turn to play!” he whined. 

You couldn’t help but laugh as his doors slumped downwards. 

“I don’t know, Smokescreen, I think Miko is going to go for round 23.”

Smokescreen’s doors fluttered weakly, but the despondent expression continued to persist on his features. 

“You’re going on patrol right? Mind if I come?” you asked, hoping the offer would improve his mood. 

It worked, and the young Autobot grinned down at you. 

“It’ll be dark soon, so there won’t be any sun,” he said. 

You shrugged. 

“Well, I guess you can tell me some more about Cybertron.”

[-]

_It was dark, darker than anything you had ever experienced. You almost thought your eyes were still closed, but the feeling of your eyelashes stick together as you blinked proved you wrong. Your allowed your fingers to explore the area around you. The all-too-familiar rough carpeting scratched at the pads of your fingers. A wave of nausea rocked your stomach as your fingertips were forced to stop their exploration by a solid wall._

__

_The effort to breathe wore down your lungs and made them burn. Your nails dug into the fabric beneath you, forcing lose particles to dig painfully into the sensitive skin underneath your nails. The burning of your lungs and the discomfort of your fingers did little to alleviate the anxiety rushing up your spine._

_You would run out of oxygen soon, and then -- and then what? It was hard to think as you lost any sense of calm. Raising your shaky hands, you curled your fingers and pounded against your confounds. If you loud enough then maybe, maybe someone would hear you._

__

_The scene changed so quickly that you couldn’t avoid the blinding light that bled out the darkness. It was too bright, and the hollow feeling at the pit of your stomach was too much of a contrast from the heaviness of your panic._

__

_Where before you were confined, the air was now free to rush past your limbs. A new wave of fear forced the air from your lungs as you realized that you were falling._

You jerked awake so violently that you nearly tumbled off of the bed. A quick thrust of your arm towards the nightstand was enough to keep your face from meeting the floor. Your sight wavered into focus as you gasped for air. 

“Shit.”

Tears stung at your eyes, but a few flutters of your eyelashes forced them back. The nightmare wasn’t new -- every night for the last week, you had been plagued by similar reanimations of your time spent with the red Decepticon. It had been so short, only a few minutes, yet you couldn’t deny the lasting effect it left on you. 

Despite you acceptance, shame burned at your cheeks and ears. 

It took longer than you would have liked to reign in the frantic beating of your heart, but once you were able to breathe calmly through your nose, you pushed the blanket off of you. The coldness of the ground bit into your bare feet. The feeling helped ground you in reality. 

You felt something in your chest wither upon seeing the vacant area in front of the large screens. Fingers gripping the opposite arm, you let your eyes dart around the room, searching for the second-half of your midnight conversations. The same something from before blossomed to life at the sound of Ratchet’s grumbling tone.  
The sound came from the other side of the platform, and if your stood on your tips of your toes, you could make out the top half of the CMO’s . .. audials? You needed to write down these terms eventually. 

You hurried up the stairs to the top-most platform and made your way to where Ratchet was, snagging the blanket off of the couch as you went. As you got closer, you realized he wasn’t speaking in English. Rather, he spoke in clicks and snaps that sounded vaguely familiar to you, but you couldn’t place where you had heard it before. If listened closely enough, you could hear the static underlying the noise. 

It was an odd language to hear. 

You briefly wondered if humans could learn it. Maybe you could ask him later, when you didn’t already have another pressing question. 

“Hey, Rat-chet,” you whispered, your voice cracking. You should have drank some water before coming out here. Oh well. 

His optics snapped towards you, his blue optics illuminating the bottom half of his face. It was enough for you to see that his . . . dermas was screwed up into a frown. Although they didn’t burn as they had before, you swore you saw annoyance flicker in his optics. 

It made your nervous and skittish, but you forced yourself to ignore the feeling as you waited for him to start the same song-and-dance you went through every night. 

His words came out in a low grumble as he began, “It’s nearly one in the morning, you should be asleep.”

“So should you. Don’t see me saying anything,” you replied, picking up the rhythm. 

Ratchet huffed, bringing himself to his full height. You fought back the nagging urge to step back. He wouldn’t hurt you. Not like Knock Out had. 

A shiver rushed down your spine, and you tugged the blanket over your shoulders.

“Honestly, you are already weak enough from your poor eating habits, and organic lifeforms have such delicate dietary requirements,” he began, turning his optics back to the machine in his servos. “I have read up on human health. Every article I read stressed the importance of a good night’s rest. If you keep having these late night conversations with me, then you’ll never get better.”

He continued to list every reason he could think of as to why you should be back in bed. While you didn’t bother to keep up with his monologue after the fifth reason, you found yourself relaxing from the sound of his voice.

“. . .actually, I’ll tell Smokescreen to take you to the grocery store this afternoon.” 

At the mention of Smokescreen and leaving the base, you frowned. 

“Why?” 

Ratchet huffed again, his optics seeming to roll at what he must have considered a dumb question. Another sting pierced your calm resolve. 

“You think you can live off just pasta? From what I’ve read of the human nutrition, you need to hit all of the main food groups to be healthy. “

You shifted, tugging the blanket closer to your body. It was almost a second skin at this point. 

“Uh, actually, I’m getting low on cash,” you said, your tongue feeling thick in your mouth. Ratchet paused once more, and you found yourself staring directly into his optics. Your chest tightened. You forgot just how close the platform made you to Ratchet. 

When he didn’t respond, you were quick to fill the silence. 

“I, uh, I was thinking maybe I could get a job? I mean, Jack and the others still go to school, so . . .” you trailed off, your heart feeling suffocated at this point. 

Still, Ratchet didn’t answer. He continued to stare down at your small form as he mulled over request. The silence made your skin itch and your nerves burn, but you forced yourself to be quiet. You knew Ratchet hated to be pestered. 

His optics dimmed slightly, a signal that he was searching for something within his memory. Or maybe he had a built in search engine in his helm. You’d have to ask him later.

Five minutes seemed to crawl by before the shine of his optics brightened and an exhale forced itself from his intake. 

His voice was gruff as he spoke, “I guess it can’t be helped, you have to feed yourself somehow.” 

You heart soared at the prospect of being able to spend time outside of the base beyond your rides with Smokescreen. 

“But,” your heart stuttered in its celebration, “Smokescreen has to accompany you the whole time, and if any Decepticons try to engage him, you both will be required to return to the base immediately.” 

You couldn’t help the grin that stretched across your face. It had been too long since you had mundane paperwork to numb your mind. You almost missed it. 

“Thank you! Gosh, I was afraid you were going to say no,” you laughed. 

The CMO didn’t respond, his attention going back to the object in his servos. You followed his gaze, squinting as you struggled to make out what he was working on. 

“Is that something else Bulkhead broke?”

Ratchet grunted. You chuckled. 

“He’s such a gentle giant, but when he’s enthusiastic, he’s a little destructive.”

He shook his helm as he responded, “A little destructive is an understatement.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not posting in forever. I started college, and let's just say, Russian was a mistake. 
> 
> This was also poorly edited, so sorry for any mistakes!


End file.
